


A Simple Gesture

by nightingvle



Series: Femslash February 2019 [1]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-22
Updated: 2019-02-22
Packaged: 2019-11-03 15:18:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 669
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17880224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nightingvle/pseuds/nightingvle
Summary: Sansa struggles to be open about her and Margery's relationship.





	A Simple Gesture

The gentle winds rustle the trees lining the streets, filled with people. Some rush to work at the last minute, huffing and puffing as they push past the crowds. Others sit comfortably on a bench, reading the morning paper as they drink their coffee. A couple up ahead hold hands as they walk together, much like the two girls trailing behind, only without the hand holding.

Sansa looks upon them with envy, wondering what it would be like to hold her own girlfriend’s hand without fear of ridicule. The mere thought of doing such a thing makes her yearning heart pound.

She remembers the last time she felt like that, which also happened to be the last time Margaery held her hand in public. It was in a street much like this one, only not so busy.

It was the first time they were out together as a couple and at first, Sansa had been excited by the idea, had even suggested it. No matter how simple the moment might have seemed, it was special for her. Even before realizing she liked girls, it was something she had dreamed of doing, but never truly got to experience, and she finally had her chance. All seemed well until Margaery reached for her hand.

Though it never failed to make Sansa blush, holding hands was nothing new for the two. It had surprised her at first, how touchy Margaery was, but it didn’t take her long to get used to it and even yearn for her touch. But that moment felt entirely different from all those other ones. That moment was much more intimate, no longer being labeled as friendship, and as she looked to the few people out and about, she worried they would notice the change.

Her heart beat loud enough to ring through her ears as she tried her best to take deep breaths and ignore her body’s protests. It had almost worked until her eyes found a couple across the street, laughing, and that did it for her. They were laughing at her, and no one could convince her otherwise.

She had pulled her hand away from Margaery’s and continued her walk with haste, wanting nothing more than the comfort of their home. Marg spared only a quick glance in her direction, but said nothing as she hurried to match her pace. She never tried to reach for her hand after that day, or anything else for that matter, which surprised Sansa considering how touchy she was. But that was then.

Now, the breeze plays with Margaery’s flowing hair, like the petals of a wild flower, and all Sansa can do is stare in awe. She thinks that she would very much like to hold her girlfriend’s hand, to show the world how lucky she is as they stare in envy.

Slowly, Sansa brushes her hand against hers, awaiting permission. The gesture must have been entirely unexpected, if the brunette’s sudden change in speed was anything to go by. Their pace slows together, until they’re nearly stopped, and Margaery sends her a questioning look.

Sansa glances at the people rushing past them, knowing if she wishes to back out, now is the time. But as she looks at the woman she loves, watches her eyebrows furrow together, the way her hair falls to frame her face, she realizes she has no desire to hide what they have. No, what she does desire is the warmth of Margaery’s hand as they walk through the chilly air. 

She slips her hand in her girlfriend’s and smiles at the way they fit together, like two puzzle pieces. Sansa wonders if the thought crosses Marg’s mind as well, and looks to see the hint of a smile upon her face, one that warms her heart and fills her with butterflies.

As they walk, hand in hand, she forgets why she was ever nervous. All she knows is that she would like to feel this way for the rest of her life.


End file.
